


Whump Collection

by JMount74



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Angst, Blood, Canon Death, Depression, Gen, Implied Character Death, Imprisonment, Injury, War, Water Torture, Whump, medical treatments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:28:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 19,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28734957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JMount74/pseuds/JMount74
Summary: A collection of short, stand-alone stories based on @aliceinwhumperland's Whump Word(s) of the Day and other prompts from Tumblr, and will usually be the title of the chapter.Please note that the Tags may be added to as this is a collection in progress, although I have put on the tags I foresee using, I may add to them as necessary.
Comments: 108
Kudos: 45





	1. ‘Are you trying to get yourself killed?’

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from @aliceinwhumperland’s Whump Word(s) of the Day

‘Are you trying to get yourself killed?’

John grinned like the manic he currently was behaving like. Letting loose something that sounded suspiciously like a war cry, he vaulted the table in front of them and charged the three armed men before them. 

It worked. The three froze on the spot, and two were down and out before the third had even registered what was going on. 

It was the sight of a wild, ginger man, arms waving about and bellowing at the top of his voice that had stopped him. The blood running down one side of his face added to the impression. But the third man rallied quick enough to catch John in the stomach with his gun. 

John doubled over, gasping for breath, and he was suddenly on his knees. The man yanked his head back. ‘Well, that was either very brave, or very stupid. Seems to me you are trying to get yourself killed.’ John grinned up at him, and suddenly the man didn’t feel so sure of himself. 

I’m actually very brave,’ he gasped, still catching his breath. ‘He’s the stupid one.’ As he said this, the man felt a tap on his shoulder and he began to straighten and turn when a fist to the jaw floored him. 

Kicking the gun away, Gordon reached down and helped John up. He was grumbling. ‘Come to the office with me, Gords. It’s boring and nothing ever happens. It will be good to get you off the island…’ and so on.


	2. He's Stable, For Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan's world might be crashing down...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @aliceinwhumperland’s Whump Word(s) of the Day

“He’s stable, for now.”

Alan’s eyes filled with tears, but he refused to let them fall. He was a Tracy, and that meant standing tall and firm even while his best friend was…was possibly dying. 

He couldn’t comprehend a world without him in, didn’t want to comprehend it. But the medic’s words chilled him to the core. Suddenly, he turned and ran, he needed to get out of there. 

‘Alan! Alan, wait!’ With Virgil looking after the patient and Scott not yet home, it fell to John to chase after his brother. But a lifetime of dodging brothers meant Alan was fast and slippery, and John quickly lost him outside. 

Outside was not safe, and that thought resounded around his brain as he ran, hidden dangers his father used to talk about rearing their heads, and Alan soon swerved back towards the house. 

John was waiting. He pulled his youngest brother into a brief hug, and gently steered him back inside, studiously ignoring the tears Alan was frantically trying to hide. Just outside the infirmary they stopped, and John turned Alan towards him. 

‘He’ll be ok, Alan. He’s tough, and he’s already been through so much in his short life.’ Using his sleeve, John carefully wiped the tears away. 

‘Do you remember when he was shot?’ Alan nodded. ‘It was a close call there, and he needed lots of stitches, but Virgil made him all better, didn’t he?’ Alan nodded again. ‘And what about the time he was in that car accident? Virgil patched him up in no time.’ He nodded again. ‘So, brave face, sprout, and let’s hear the verdict together, ok?’ 

‘Ok.’ It was small and quiet, and John hid a smile when his ‘I’m old enough to…’ youngest brother slipped his hand into John’s. 

Opening the door, they came and stood by the bed. Virgil smiled at Alan and said ‘you should let people finish speaking before you run off. As I was saying, he’s stable, for now, but you really need to stop pulling him about so much. Mr. B won’t last much longer if you don’t.’ 

And with that Virgil handed six-year-old Alan’s most treasured teddy back, complete with a new line of stitches across his chest.


	3. I'm Uh...I'm Not Feeling So Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott, an injury and he's at it again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @aliceinwhumperland’s Whump Word(s) of the Day

‘I’m uh…I’m not feeling so hot.’

Those words froze Virgil to the core. Damn his brother and his insistence that everything was fine, charging off in One before Virgil had finished seeing to the injured rescuee, let alone examined Scott.

‘What do you mean, you’re not feeling so hot?’ he demanded, but got only silence in return. Panic ramping up, Virgil did the only thing he could. ‘John?’

‘I’m already on it. Taking control of Thunderbird One now. There’s a large field ahead, I’ll land her there and send you directions.’ True to his word, directions appeared and Virgil adjusted accordingly. 

Fifteen minutes later, and Scott was strapped down in Two’s sick bay, unconscious but ultimately okay. That ‘scratch’ he’d obtained during the rescue turned out to be a deep laceration and Scott had passed out from blood loss. Virgil was pumping fluids in now.

He shook his head, watching Scott sleep. His brother would never learn. First to smother the slightest hint of injury in any of his brothers, yet so totally loath to get seen himself, it had been a close one today. He was glad he wasn’t in Scott’s shoes later. 

Grandma was not amused.


	4. Why? Why Would You Risk Everything For Just One Person?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's in a precarious situation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting:   
> “Why? Why would you risk everything for just one person?” “You wouldn’t understand.”

It wasn’t the first time, and if he survived this, it wouldn’t be the last time. 

Not the last time that he saved, he risked it all for a person deemed by society at large to not be ‘worth it’. 

It had been his way for as long as he could remember. Fight for the underdog. Fight for the little one. At first, that had meant his brothers. And fight for each and every one of them he did - whether it was school bullies or the system that would have torn their family apart had he been weaker, had he not fought to keep everything going. 

His stint in the USAF was all about helping those who were in no position to help themselves, and that had led to months being tortured as a POW. 

It didn’t stop him wanting to help people. If anything, it spurred him on. So when his dad explained all about iR Scott had grabbed the opportunity immediately. 

He’d saved some pretty awful people. Lemaire and Fischler - misguided repeat offenders who didn’t understand how their actions nearly killed, not just them, but others around them. 

But the worst was having to save the man that had killed his dad. As Grandma said, they don’t judge, but that was hard. It was the only time he had hesitated to save a life. 

Then having to save Fuse at the possible cost of his own life - there hadn’t been a trace of hesitation. And it had paid off when Fuse, in turn, saved his. 

This was no different. 

Scott lay there, left shoulder completely dislocated and possibly broken, cut and bleeding all over - but she was safe. She might be scolding him, disbelief that he came for her written all over his face, but he had no regrets. Burning building aside, exploding canisters and metal poles through his right hip aside, he’d done what he would always do. 

Save the girl. 

After all, maybe Havoc would one day repay the favour.


	5. I Can't Give Up On You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Jeff and Scott angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @islandandstars and the prompt: ‘I Can’t Give Up On You. So Please Do Not Give Up On Yourself’ with Scott and Jeff.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Jeff listens as the monitor is the only way of knowing his son is alive.

Beep. 

Beep.

Beep.

It’s been three weeks. Three weeks of hell on earth for the father of five, and he’s hanging on to his eldest’s hand so tightly, as if he can anchor him here – in the real world – and stop him escaping to there, where he knows his mother waits.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

But he won’t let him go, can’t let him go. A tear falls, and Jeff brushes it angrily away. Damn the Air Force and their secret missions, their lack of intel, their secrecy. It had taken them merely 48 hours to notify Jeff that his son was missing, but nearly two weeks before they informed him that he’d been found. 

Two weeks in a medically induced coma after multiple surgeries.

And still they won’t tell Jeff what happened in the six months Scott was missing.

Beep. 

Beep.

Beep.

No matter. Jeff is a patient man. He is a powerful man, and he is not afraid to use that power to protect his children, his son. God help the USAF when he gets through with them. 

But he needs Scott to wake up first. They’ve eventually weaned him off the medication keeping him under, now it’s up to Scott.

It’s been four days and still Scott is unconscious. The hospital staff are saying that he’ll wake up when he’s ready, but seeing the state of his son, Jeff is not so sure.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

So he keeps this bedside vigil, keeps his son grounded.

Raising Scott’s hand to his face, he bestows a tender kiss before cradling it against his check. ‘I can’t give up on you, son. I won’t. Please don’t give up on yourself, Scotty.’ Jeff takes a deep breath and kisses his son’s hand again.

‘Please, Scott. We need you. I need you. Come back to us son.’

So intent is he on speaking, on bringing Scott back, that Jeff doesn’t register the change.

Beep – beep.

Beep – beep.

Beep – beep.

Placing Scott’s hand back on the bed, Jeff again furiously wipes his face, only to bury it in his hands.

The voice is quiet, hoarse through misuse and dryness, but it sounds like thunder to the waiting man.

‘Dad?’


	6. And Just Where Do You Think You Are Going?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor John, he's got a destination in mind - he's just got to get past Scott...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from @aliceinwhumperland’s Whump Word(s) of the Day

‘And just where do you think you’re going?’

He cringed inwardly. He’d so hoped to get away with it. But there was nothing for it, so he straightened his spine and stood as tall as he could before turning to face his inquisitor.

Scott stood there, arms folded and eyebrow raised, awaiting an answer, and for a wild moment John contemplated making a run for it. Scott must have read his mind because, although he didn’t move to stop John, his other eyebrow was suddenly joining its’ twin and Scott was just staring at him.

John sagged in defeat. He’d managed to get around both Virgil and Grandma by his clever talk, but words wouldn’t work on his big brother. Promising not to leave his room had earnt a glare from Grandma but she’d given in. Virgil had been easy – he only had to say he’d sleep better and be more comfortable in his own bed.

It wasn’t like he was seriously injured or anything. He wasn’t dying.

But Scott was still standing there, waiting for an answer, and really – what could John say? A treacherous thought at the back of his mind said, ‘tell him the truth’, but John quashed that immediately. He knew that if he put on his most winsome smile Scott would see right through that. 

So he turned on the eyes, but only at half-power (really, Scotty was such a perceptive bastard at times), and told a half-truth, fingers metaphorically crossed.

‘I’m just getting a drink, Scott.’

Scott rolled his eyes. His brother must think he was stupid or something. Of course, it was the ‘or something’ that was the problem. None of them reacted well to being injured or ill, least of all him, but John was just as bad. He had a way with words that could wrap Virgil around his finger. John may have thought that he had got past Grandma, but the wily old bird could read him like a book – and had done, choosing to send in Scott rather than cause a scene.

John looked ill. He didn’t often come down with colds or ’flu, partly because he was so seldom on Earth, but that did mean that when he did get them, he got them good. Today was only the second day he’d been fully awake and aware. He was wheezing and his nose and eyes were bright red, a sheen of fever still with him.

Scott regarded his brother fondly. He must be not firing on all cylinders if he thought that he’d fooled Scott for one minute. Of course, it helped that Scott knew exactly what John was up to – they’d had this discussion before John had become sick.

‘Come on John,’ Scott said, gently taking John by the arm and steering him, not to the kitchen, but to the roundhouse. John frowned. What on earth was Scott up to? But he willingly let Scott lead him. And did he get a surprise!

Waiting in the roundhouse was Virgil. And Gordon. And Alan. And the biggest pillow fort he’d seen for years. And it was hot in there. There were hot chocolates and mashmallows.  
And it all faced the ocean, so that John could see the meteor shower he had come down to watch, despite being ill. Scott helped him inside and wrapped him up in a quilted throw, and they all snuggled together. 

His brothers really were the best.

He was asleep before the first meteor streaked across the sky, huddled into Scott on one side and Virgil on the other.


	7. My Mind Is In A Dark Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Did he do the right thing? The doubts are building, and Scott's unsure...will Virgil be able to help him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @islandandstars and the prompt: ‘My Mind Is In a Dark Place. You Do Not Want To Be There’
> 
> Quite angsty.
> 
> Spoilers for Brains verses Brawn

Scott was worrying everyone. His behaviour was so out of the ordinary for the usually level-headed man. He’d taken to spending every spare minute in the gym or running around the island. It was not enough. He needed to do more, push more, until he could block everything out. He destroyed the boxing equipment. He destroyed the practice equipment.

Of course it fell to Virgil to sort him out, well Virgil and John. John came down to discuss battle plans while Scott decided to free-climb the volcano. Thankfully he’d done that before and all the equipment was already in place, so they were reasonably not that worried.

No, they were worried more about Scott’ frame of mind. He was walking about like a thundercloud, frown now permanently present. He was snapping at everyone and everything – even MAX and EOS had fallen foul. Virgil had begun tracking his stats, and some of them were frightening. Since the incident his oldest brother had barely slept or eaten and had spent hours working out in one form or another.

It had been nine days. Scott thought that he would have worked his anger out by now, and he could feel the sharpest edges dulling now, but it was being replaced by the deepest blackest hole he’d experienced in years. Sitting on an outcrop, legs dangling and chest heaving from the effort, those dark thoughts he’d been battling for so long found a chink in his armour and were beginning to consume him.

How could he? How could he help that man, that man who took everything away from him, from them? What kind of big brother was he? What kind of precedent had he set? 

_‘You’ve shown your true colours now, Scott, and nothing you can do will ever change that. COWARD. You’re not worthy of them, of him.’_

He flinched as if someone had physically said the words, and in doing so he dislodged himself from his precarious seat. Thank goodness he had quick reflexes, but he still slipped a fair way down the rockface before he managed to arrest his fall. That tumble had skinned him in several places, and the thought uppermost in his mind was how the hell was he going to hide these from Virgil? He couldn’t face the thought of his brothers showing him concern right now. First things first, he needed to get off this climb, which meant up, and so he set out again, albeit slower than usual.

It was EOS that alerted them to Scott’s tumble. Virgil and Gordon were out and in Two before anything else had been said. It said something about their concern that it was one of the fastest gear-up times ever. It didn’t take long to locate Scott, and Virgil endured the absolute daggers his oldest brother sent his was as he lowered the platform with Gordon on, ready to prise Scott off that rockface if he had to. In the end Scott came aboard, in the filthiest temper he’d ever seen the man display. Scott sat with ill grace in the sickbay, arms folded tightly across his chest, frown dominating his face, his stare just daring Gordon to say something – anything. Gordon had taken one look and left him to stew.

This was a job for Virgil.

Virgil brought Two back home and left Gordon to do the checks while he went to find Scott. It was no surprise to see the pod empty and the door open. Scott had escaped the instant that it was safe to do so, knowing it would take Virgil a little longer to get down here. He sighed. ‘What on earth is going through your head, big brother?’ he muttered to himself, stepping out into the hanger. Nope, no Scott in sight.

‘He’s heading for his rooms.’ John knew what was going on, and he did not envy Virgil at all. Scott so rarely had black days, and when he did it threw everyone out of alignment. Virgil smiled and nodded. This was going to require tact and something he could pick up on the way. Not something he would usually recommend in these circumstances, but there was only one thing on Earth that could get Scott to lower his defences enough so that they could deal with whatever was bothering him.

Whisky. A bottle of the 50-year-old (or two). Two crystal glasses. And a call to say he and Scott were unavailable for the next 12 hours. 

A knock on the door told Scott that Virgil was here. He ignored it in favour of cleaning up. Some of his abrasions were deeper than he realised, and he needed to get covered up before his brother entered. He was under no illusions that John would override the locks if he didn’t let Virgil in, so he hurried. And was a little surprised at the sight.

Virgil was standing there, Scotch and glasses in hand. Not what Scott was expecting at all. Neither was he prepared when his brother barged past him onto his balcony and sat himself down. Not waiting for Scott to join him, Virgil opened the whisky, poured two generous helpings and drank a mouthful before Scott sat next to him. He pretended not to notice the slight frown on Scott’s face and nudged the other glass towards him.

Neither said anything. For three glasses and the 45 minutes it took to savour them, both staring out over the jungle on the island. It took that long for Scott to just let go of the tension in his shoulders. Another two shots and he exhaled a deep sigh.

Virgil was studiously ignoring the blood seeping through Scott’s shirt in places – that could wait – and replied to his brother’s sigh with one of his own. He didn’t know about Scott, but he was seriously relaxed for the first time since this all kicked off, and he was beginning to think that if Scott didn’t open up soon he’d fall asleep right here. Maybe he needed to prompt him, subtly.

‘You going to talk about what’s eating you, Scott?’ Yeah, real subtle there Virg, real subtle. Thankfully it seemed his brother had not heard him, instead pouring another glass. Virgil had long stopped counting and had slowed down – he knew Scott could easily outmatch him. 

Scott drank the lot in one go and poured another, but this time he nursed the Scotch. He knew what Virgil was doing, attempting to do, but he wasn’t ready to talk yet. Didn’t want to talk about it. So he drank and he stared while his brother pretended to keep up with him. Virgil was no lightweight, but both Scott and Gordon could drink him under the table. The benefit of a military stint, he supposed.

Virgil was almost asleep, day had turned to evening into dusk, and the second bottle had been started before Scott said anything. 

‘I’m sorry, Virg,’ he said with a sigh. Virgil almost hugged him in relief. It was a start. ‘You want to tell me what’s going on in your head right now, big brother? Because you’re worrying the heck out of us all.’ Scott gave a bitter laugh, one that raised the Scooter sense to Defcon One.

‘My mind is in a dark place. You do not want to be there, Virgil.’ He emphasised this with another shot. The whisky was beginning to work, to take that edge off. So much so he almost jumped when Virgil placed his hand on Scott’s forearm. He looked up into his brother’s impossibly chocolate-brown eyes and faltered.

He’d always been able to talk to Virgil, to share everything with him. But still, he held back – how do you tell your best friend, your closest brother, how you feel? He needed more whisky. He poured a triple, paused, then topped it up. Scott downed it in one before Virgil removed the glass. They were almost out.

‘Scott. You’re my brother and my best friend. Let me help you. I want to help you.’ Virgil pulled Scott forward into an embrace and held him there. Tightly. And was rewarded with a very slight, very muffled sob. They clung to each other – the one clinging on to his life raft, the other clinging on to the drowning man. Virgil wouldn’t let go until Scott did – he knew how much his brother hated to show any form of weakness in front of his younger brothers.

They did eventually part and Virgil leant back on the chair, returning his gaze outwards. Scott took the moment to pull himself together. He still marvelled at how Virgil could read his mind, even after all these years. 

‘Do you think that I did the right thing?’ Virgil glanced over, but Scott was back to staring out. He sighed. He and John had speculated that this was the issue, but to have it confirmed was the first step in solving it. 

And they needed to solve it. It was eating Scott alive.

‘Saving the Hood? Yeah, we did the right thing.’  
‘I keep thinking I let Dad down by saving him, even though Grandma said it was the right thing to do.’  
‘She is right, Scott. We don’t define good or bad, we just rescue people. Dad would have done the same thing. You know that, deep down.’  
‘Would he? Would he not think me a coward for saving the man who killed him? Do you?’

And here Virgil was subjected to the full weight of tortured blue eyes. What the hell – where the hell did that come from? Getting up from the chair, he sat back down on Scott’s, forcing his brother to move to accommodate him. Twisting, he put his hands onto Scott’s shoulders, and his forehead on Scott’s. Closing his eyes and breathing deeply, Virgil spoke softly. 

‘Now you listen to me, Scott Carpenter Tracy, and you listen good. You are the bravest man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. My big brother a coward? I’ve never heard anything so ridiculous in my life. He jumps into burning buildings, he leaps out of aircraft, he runs into danger at every opportunity without a thought for his own safety. He has spent his entire life looking out for me, protecting me, teaching me how to be a better man every single day. There is not a bone in his body that is cowardly and never has been. I don’t care what rubbish that man filled your head with, you listen to me.’

Virgil sat back and gently wiped the tears from Scott’s face. Yeah, his brother was having a black period, but now he’d let out what was bothering him they would work as a family to build him back up, reassure him. It wouldn’t take long for Scott to bounce back with their love.

Scott offered a watery smile. God he loved his brother so much, he knew exactly what to say. Virgil was possibly the only one who ever guessed at the inner turmoil Scott felt, the demons that poked him and screamed ‘not good enough, never good enough’ at him. And Virgil was the only one that he could talk him round. He pulled him back into a hug.

This time when Virgil pulled back there was a proper smile on Scott’s face, a little sheepish maybe, but the first smile he had seen since they had rescued the Hood from the Mechanic. It was a start, and he would take it. Scott sat back and sighed, this time with contentment. He eyed the bottle and the tiny amount left, then looked at Virgil, one eyebrow raised in question. His brother rolled his eyes but poured the shots anyway. 

Clinking glasses and downing in one, they both watched the sun setting and the colours it painted the sky.

Sally entered later that night, checking that her grandsons were ok since neither had come down for dinner and John had said they were talking. She smiled at the two, asleep on the loungers on Scott’s balcony, two empty bottles of Scotch between them. Stripping the bed, she covered them up - they may live in the Pacific, but it could get chilly at night. Checking Alan, Gordon and John, Sally was not surprised that John was still up. He looked questioningly at his Grandma, and she was more than happy to give him a smile and a nod.

Scott would be alright now.


	8. Save The Others First

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's in a difficult predicament. Safety is coming, but for who?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Tsari and prompt 55: ‘Save the others first, Save them first or all my fighting was for nothing.’

He’d known since he understood what an aeroplane was that he would be a pilot. Nothing else had ever remotely crossed his mind. While others in his class went from fireman to policeman to Ironman to vet, Scott had only ever said pilot. It was his only goal.

Times like this, he sometimes wished his father had talked him out of it.

Scott recalled a distant memory of Career Day when he must have been eight? Nine? Not sure of the age, but the memory was clear. Dad had made time to come and talk to the class like a normal dad, but everyone knew that Jeff Tracy was not a normal father. Scott had been so pleased to have him there, but by the end of the session he had been fuming. All anyone wanted his father to talk about was space, and Scott wanted to talk about flying, about being in the Air Force. Jeff had needed to take his eldest to task when his temper had begun to show.

Why didn’t his dad tell him about _this_?

Despite everything that life later threw at them, at him, Scott’s goal remained true, and now here he was, 21 years old, pilot and First Lieutenant. Glittering career ahead – not that he was bothered by that – a future mapped out until he was about 40ish.

That future now looked bleak.

The rattle of bullets thudding into the masonry behind him pulled him back into the here and now.

Five days. He’d been shot down five days ago, losing his co-pilot in the process. There hadn’t been time to bury her, and that would haunt him for the rest of his days. Scott had a hole in his leg and despite the bulky flight helmet, he was pretty sure he had a concussion. Stripping everything he didn’t need and grabbing what he could carry, he was away as fast as he could hobble.

He’d been found later on that first day by an older man directing a donkey cart laden with what felt like giant hard marbles. He’d been kind and helped Scott hide in the back, despite his protests, and had hidden him in a dilapidated barn. Scott hated it – he knew what would happen to the couple if it was found out they had sheltered him – and had been determined to move on as soon as possible. 

Unfortunately, his leg had other ideas, and by the time the night had fallen Scott had a raging temperature. Thankfully, it had broken quickly due to the first aid pack having broad-spectrum antibiotics and the thoughtful ministrations of the couple. Scott hoped his luck would hold.

It did not. He was a Tracy after all.

Late on the second day an army truck came. Four men looking for the pilot of the downed aircraft. Scott didn’t catch everything, but what little he did was not good for either of them. And with the men fanning out and looking in all the outbuildings, his chance to slip away had gone. There was a small crawl space under the building that the man had shown him just in case, and Scott carefully slid into it, ensuring he had put everything else down there as well. He only hoped it would work.

The men left after a three-hour search, but Scott didn’t relax. He couldn’t, every second he stayed here endangered the couple. He had a small radio that had only one secure channel – in the event he was shot down he had a way to inform base so that they could launch a rescue mission. He hadn’t been coherent enough before, but now that was his top priority.

The relief in knowing he was going to be rescued had flooded through him. Pick-up in two days, stay in the location. Scott wasn’t happy about that, but these were the co-ordinates for the extraction crew so he stayed put. The couple helped him as much as they could, but he kept away from them as much as possible, hoping that it would keep them safe.

As he had known, his luck didn’t hold. By the early morning of the fifth day he was involved in a running gun battle, trying to hold off the four men – and thank goodness they had not radioed for more – while the old man and his wife cowered behind the table Scott had pulled down for them. They had an old shotgun and plenty of ammo, safeguards for rural living, and Scott had his hand gun, but they were outnumbered and outgunned.

Then the sound of an approaching helo broke through the gunfire. His salvation was coming, but looking at the couple huddled under the table, he knew he couldn’t leave them. The helo couldn’t land that close, and they would fight off the men only long enough to reach the house and grab Scott, but he knew in his heart what was going to happen.

Sure enough, a burst of bullets from the helo and the four men withdrew. Scott couldn’t see his rescuers, they were behind where he could see, but a few moments later and two heavily armed men burst through the back. Scott had never been so relieved to see Marines. The shooting at the house resumed. Thank god it was heavy masonry.

They made short work of ensuring Scott’s wound was ok and turned to usher him out, but he stopped them in their tracks. He gestured to the couple. 

‘You know what will happen to them if we leave them.’  
‘I’m sorry, Lieutenant, our orders are for you only.’  
‘Not good enough. Save them first.’  
‘Don’t make me – ’  
‘I’m not making you do anything! Save the others first! Save them first or all my fighting was for nothing. This whole war is about saving them. _Save them_.’

The Marine glared at Scott, sighed heavily and helped the elderly couple up. They were thanking them, thanking Scott as they fled out the back, and Scott heaved a sigh of relief. One dead person because of this trip was enough.

But Scott hadn’t been paying attention. In his rush to get the couple saved he hadn’t noticed the ceasefire, that someone had managed to get in through one of the broken windows in the other room. 

He knew the Marines would be back quickly and he turned around. Straight into the barrel of a gun. Scott wasn’t ready to shoot, so did what was asked. He dropped his gun and put his hands on the back of his head. He was pushed out and led over to the truck. Forced to his knees, he looked up as the helo took off – they knew they couldn’t save him, and Scott was grateful not to have more blood on his hands.

A blow to the head and he knew no more.


	9. I Can't Give Up. They Need Me So I Can Never Give Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alan hates being the youngest at the best of times.  
> This is not the best of times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lenna asked for prompt 59: ‘I can’t give up. They need me so I can never give up.’

Alan was many things.  
Astronaut. Pilot. Race car driver (ok – online only at the moment…) Integral member of International Rescue.  
But at the moment he was one thing.  
Youngest brother.

Youngest brother meant that sometimes his older brothers forgot _what_ he was and only remembered _who_ he was.

Youngest brother meant he was left behind because ‘we don’t need everyone, and you might be needed…’

Youngest brother meant he wasn’t there physically, but he saw and heard everything _and could do nothing about it_.

The men had come out of nowhere, and some Taser blasts later his three brothers were bundled into a truck and they disappeared. John, also helpless and watching from space, locked down the ’birds, and despite everything that had just happened, Alan laughed when the men tried to get into them and were bounced off by the forcefield.

‘Ha! How do _you_ like it!’

But that just brought home what had happened, and Alan looked to John. John was frowning and Alan didn’t need to be there to know his fingers would be flying. The frown was worrying. He didn’t need to hear the words when they came.

‘I’ve lost them. They're shielding.’

Alan closed his eyes. This – this was his worse nightmare, ever since Scott had sat him down as an eleven-year-old and explained that his dad had gone. Intellectually, he knew that if he had gone he would have been captured, but he just knew that if he had been there it would have been different.

Damn his brothers.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

It had been five days since they had been taken. John and EOS had remote-piloted the ’birds back and John had come down. He’d been down ever since. The GDF was – kinda – helping search. Alan and John were running searches and contacting people, trying to find something, _anything_ , to give them a clue. Penny and Kayo were running sources to ground, even Parker had been contacting old friends.

There had been no demands made.  
That frightened him more than anything else.

Sally was becoming increasingly worried about both her grandsons. They were running themselves into the ground trying to find their brothers, not that she could blame them and not that she was much better. But they needed rest otherwise they would not be in any fit state to rescue them. She’d never get John to stop, they had been through this before, but Alan needed the rest.

‘Alan, sweetheart, you need to stop and take a break.’ The mere thought of stopping started the beginnings of a panic attack. Stop? How could he stop? Seeing the look of horror on his face, Sally came over and pulled Alan onto the couch. ‘Breathe, kid. Breathe.’ Alan did.

‘I can’t stop now. I can’t give up. They need me, I can never give up,’ he wheezed out. Sally rolled her eyes. Just like a Tracy. Totally overreaction to what she said. ‘I’m not asking you to give up, Alan. I’m asking you to take a break. You need to be fresh as you’ll need to pilot when we find them.’

‘Oh.’ That was all that he could say to that. His Grandma was right – John was in no fit state to pilot either ’bird. He needed to be ready. Jumping off the couch, giving his Grandma a brief but tight hug, he rushed off to his room, flinging a ‘thanks, Grandma’ over his shoulder.

Sally chuckled. He was no different to any of his brothers really. 

Eight hours later Alan was shaken awake. It was John. He was wide-eyed and smiling.

‘We’ve found them. Suit up.’


	10. Are You Going To Co-operate?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's not sure what's going on. He just knows what he needs to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From aliceinwhumperland’s prompt: ‘Meal Time. Are You Going To Cooperate?’

‘Meal time. Are you going to cooperate?’ the voice leered at him, the ever-present hope that the prisoner may choose not to. The guards took delight in mocking the fallen hero.

But Scott knew the drill by now. Stand up. Be ready. Eat the food. Don’t look the guard in the eye. Don’t drop the spoon, no matter how much your hand is shaking. Don’t drop the food. Don’t sit down until you’re told to. Don’t draw attention to yourself – although he had no hope of this one.

Scott Tracy was a special prisoner, one of note. He’d been special before, a hero – although not one here – and as such he couldn’t help but stand out. Being literally head and shoulders above almost everyone else didn’t help either. But he had learnt the rules very quickly.

Don’t let your guard down for one second.  
Don’t make a sound.  
Don’t give them the satisfaction.

Food came once a day – if it came at all – and it was always an indescribable slop. He thought his grandmother’s cooking was bad…and that was something else he tried not to do.

Don’t think about what’s been left behind.

Once, many moons ago, he had been part of a loving family: a father, four brothers, a grandmother, a sister, a friend.   
Once, he remembered going through hostage training. Don’t dwell on who is at home. That is a weakness they will use to break you. 

You are nothing.  
You have nothing.

And now, that, at least, was true.

So he stood and waited. He accepted the meal. He ate. He disappointed the guards. He followed the rules. He sat. He waited. He slept. He repeated.

Scott didn’t remember how he got here, or even where ‘here’ was, nor did he know how long he had been here. It felt like forever. There had been beatings. There had been water. There had been electricity. There had been fire. Still, he couldn’t remember anything.

He couldn’t remember what they wanted. What they asked. If they even ever asked him anything.

He couldn’t remember what he had done, but it must have been terrible.


	11. Does It Kill You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's in a predicament...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For katblu42 and prompt 4:  
> ‘Does it kill you? Knowing that you can’t do anything to stop me?’ and Scott

If he’d thought about it a little more, it had been too easy. Something about the whole rescue had seemed off from the minute John finished describing the collapsed building, but lives were at stake and Scott was never one to hold back, sometimes to the despair of his brothers.

Now he wished that sometimes he didn’t rush in.

There had been three life signs, just as promised. Unmoving, also as scans supplied. But that was where the similarities ended. For there were not three office workers trapped on the second floor of a collapsed building.

There was Havoc and Fuse and the Hood. And they were most definitely not unconscious.

But Scott had been, for an unknown period of time, caught by a taser blast before he’d even registered who was there. And now, now he was somewhere else, seated on a chair with his arms cuffed behind him and to the chair, as were his legs. His sash was missing.

Raising his head he spied Havoc sitting on the table in front of him, playing with one of the many techo-spheres she used. ‘Oh, so you’re finally awake then. Better let the boss know,’ she said, hopping off and leaving. If Havoc was here then Fuse was somewhere near…a hand fell on his shoulder and it took all of Scott’s considerable willpower not to shrug it off.

He heard rather than saw the door open, and the hand disappeared to be replaced by two, one on each shoulder. They squeezed, and Scott couldn’t repress the shudder that went through him. Then there were lips besides his ear…

‘Does it kill you? Knowing that you can’t do anything to stop me, that I can do anything I want, and you are here, powerless?’

Scott swallowed, trying hard not to let the panic show. For the voice that started out as The Hood modulated at the end to a very familiar voice. And as he spoke, the Hood moved into eyesight and confirmed Scott’s horrified realisation.

In front of Scott stood…Scott.


	12. What Do Hugs Feel Like

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> EOS observes the aftermath of a bad rescue and it leads to an interesting question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Fictivekaleidoscope who asked for prompt 42:  
> ‘What do hugs feel like’ and EOS.

EOS had watched the events play out on the rescue with a heightened sense of what she now knew was concern.

She was concerned. It was not going well, and although her family were forever defying the odds, sometimes they simply couldn’t win. This was one of those times. Didn’t stop them from trying, though, and it didn’t stop them from giving their all. That had led to several minor injuries and one major one.

Scott had been unconscious for three days before he came round after the building he and Virgil had been in collapsed on him. She’d watched how Virgil cared for him, both before he woke up and afterwards, and she was puzzled. Virgil, in many ways a favourite of hers – although John had said she shouldn’t have favourites – had changed his behaviour.

When he’d finished fixing Alan and Gordon there had been hugs and chats and what she classified as normal behaviour. But now Scott was fixed, there was none of that. Virgil seemed to be avoiding Scott, and Scott seemed to be puzzled too. This had been going on for almost three days, and she could see that it was affecting everyone.

‘John?’  
‘Yes, EOS?’  
‘Your brother is malfunctioning.’

John’s head shot up from the book he was currently reading. Malfunctioning? Scott was getting better, he thought. He set the book aside and began to pull up Scott’s stats, concern coursing through him. Had Virgil and Grandma missed something?

‘Not Scott. Virgil.’

This brought John to a complete halt in his reasonings, and he switched the results to see Virgil’s stats. Nothing out of the ordinary.

‘EOS, I think you’d better explain.’  
‘Virgil is malfunctioning. He is not exhibiting his normal behaviour.’  
‘And what behaviour is that?’  
‘When he fixed Alan and Gordon he hugged them and chatted, and everyone was good. He has fixed Scott but there has been no hug and no chatting, and everyone is not good.’

It was quite a good explanation, as far as how an AI would interpret things, and for the next few hours John simply watched Tracy Island, his brothers and what was going on. EOS was right. Virgil was avoiding Scott. John rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the first time the medic had reacted this way when someone – Scott usually – had done something he considered foolish and got injured on a rescue. Last time this had happened, Virgil had been pushed out of the way of a falling metal pole, and he had stewed for days. John found it all hilarious, because if it had been the other way around his brother wouldn’t have hesitated to do the same thing.

Only one thing would set this right. John was going home for the night. EOS watched with great interest how John’s presence on the island changed the dynamics completely. And within an hour of returning Virgil was giving Scott a hug and they were talking.

Job completed with a satisfactory outcome. 

But it got EOS thinking.

When John returned to Five later the next day, he knew that she had more questions. There was hot coffee and a cream cheese bagel on the counter waiting for him. Thanking her for her thoughtfulness, John had consumed half before he spoke again. ‘You have a question for me, EOS?’ EOS nodded.

‘What do hugs feel like?’

He put down his cup. What do they feel like? What a question. He loved her thirst for knowledge, it was never boring.

‘I guess the first thing to explain is that there are hugs for different reasons. We hug to show compassion and that we feel for the person. Hugs also can be romantic, to show how you love someone. They can be friendly, signifying a level of comradery.’  
‘I understand.’  
‘All hugs have one thing in common. They show that the giver cares about the receiver.’  
‘And how does it feel?’

She wasn’t letting him off easy with this one. Gathering his thoughts he started again.

‘When Scott hugs it is the warmth of love and care that has kept me safe my entire life. When Virgil hugs it is the embrace of love and compassion and safety his presence brings. When Gordon hugs it is the laughter and joy and unashamedly happy hug of freedom. When Alan hugs it is the tenderness and adoration of like-mindedness and completeness.

‘Hugs feel warm and safe and loving and secure. They are telling me they will never let me go and they will always be there, no matter what.’

‘Hugs feel warm and secure?’  
‘That’s right. Remember how you felt when you realised I did not want to harm you or imprison you? What did you feel?’  
‘I felt a lack of urgency. You called it relief.’  
‘I did. It is similar with a hug. It makes everything feel right with the world, even when it isn’t.’

EOS contemplated. She may not be able to physically feel a hug, but she felt she now understood more about the dynamics of it all.

‘I wish that I could hug you, John.’  
‘In your own way you do, EOS. You keep me warm and safe and look after me. You are there when I need you, you tease and play jokes on me. And we discuss and learn together. I feel secure with you here.’

EOS’ turned pink with pleasure. She would always be there for John and all his family to keep them warm and safe.


	13. I’ll Stay With You While You Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeff sits at the hospital bed, holding her hand..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From aliceinwhumperland’s prompt: ‘I’ll Stay Until You’re Asleep, But You Have To Close Your Eyes.’ Warning: Canon death

He sat in the semi-dark room and watched her. Assisted by the oxygen, her breathing was little more than a wheeze now, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that.

He couldn’t do anything. Not anymore. Well, there was one thing he could do, and he clung to it. He sat there and held her hand as tightly as he could.

She turned to look at him. He was still so handsome, still made her catch her breath when he looked at her a certain way. Still astounded her that he loved her as completely as he did. She squeezed a little, gaining his attention.

‘The kids?’  
‘They’re fine.’  
‘Scott?’

Jeff sighed. He wanted Lucy to concentrate on herself, but he knew she was worried. Hell, he was worried. His eldest was unconscious, and the doctors were worried. Jeff was pretty sure that Lucy was only hanging on because of Scott.

They’d told him they could do nothing for her, the internal damage and bleeding had been too great. They told him to say his goodbyes. That was almost 3 hours ago, and still she held on. But she was getting steadily worse, hour by hour, minute by minute, her breathing was more laboured, and for the first time in their marriage Jeff lied to the love of his life.

‘Scott’s going to be fine. You saved him, Luce, you saved him.’ She gave a tired smile. Her baby was going to be fine! Finally she relaxed. Jeff bent over and kissed her temple as she continued looking at him but not seeing.

‘Sleep, my darling. I’ll stay until you’re asleep, but you have to close your eyes. Love you forever, my Lucy,’ he whispered to her, over and over until her eyes closed and her hand loosened.

He clenched her hand, bowed his head and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Ok. I made myself cry writing this.


	14. I thought I’d never see you again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rescues all over the place have Scott scrambling - his Scooter sense is ringing but even he could never foresee this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Nutty and the prompt:  
> 93: ‘I thought I’d never see you again. They told me you were dead.’

The best thing about being part of an elite rescue team was rescuing people The buzz was undeniable for the youngest members, and the eldest were not above feeling the same way – they were just ‘too mature’ to think about it.

The worst thing about being part of an elite rescue team was rescuing people. Because they had a habit of needing rescuing in multiple places at once. And quite often nowadays, the Tracy’s found themselves split all over the world and space.

Today was one of those days. Gordon and Alan were off planet, returning from an asteroid mine rescue. Virgil and Kayo were over in Mozambique, helping with flood relief following a cyclone. Scott found himself in Canada, searching for lost climbers as a weather front moved in. John was mildly pulling out his hair coordinating everyone with EOS’ help.

Scott was always on edge when they were so spread out, and he was especially on edge today. His inane sixth sense, his scooter sense, was wailing at him, and he couldn’t find the source. This was unusual enough to put him on edge, so much so that when he found his missing climbers it took all his inconsiderable self-control to not yell at them for ignoring the weather warnings. He literally dumped them at the nearest health centre at Haines Junction, not caring it was in the completely the wrong direction and very, very out of their way.

One shot off after what was possibly the fastest medical handover possible. But she wasn’t fast enough. Less than two minutes later Scott and John had to listen to Kayo screaming for Virgil over and over, and there was nothing they could do.

Tsunami.

The word conjured fear in them all. Unpredictable, inexorable, inescapable. The minute warning John had screamed at them had given Kayo enough time to get to Two. But not Virgil.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Thousands were missing, actual number unknown, and the news was full of how heroic the Thunderbirds were, helping out while one of their own was also missing.

The clean-up took weeks. And still there was no sign, nothing. Eventually the rescue workers found part of Virgil’s sash. There were words said, but Scott didn’t hear any of them. Mumbled apologies for his loss, unheard past the torrent of his heart beating.

In the end it was estimated that 14,000 died, not the worst tsunami in history by any means, but the deadliest for International Rescue.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

John sighed. They had all thought that the way they lost Dad was the worst way in the world. They had been wrong. Sure, they all knew the possibility of dying on the job was pretty high, but they had been invincible for so long now that the statistics didn’t count, didn’t apply to them. Or so they thought.

They held a simple ceremony on the bluff where they’d memorialised their Mom. Just family. Penny had cried into Gordon’s shoulder and Grandma into Parker’s. The only person who hadn’t cried was Scott, but John was not surprised at that. He hadn’t cried when their Mom had died either. No, he’d drown his sorrows in Scotch later, when everyone was in bed, railing against the world and it’s hatred of their family. John knew that he would help him.

International Rescue had been stood down for a week. Alan and Gordon had wanted longer, but Scott was firm. The world still needed them, they had a job to do and Virgil would not have wanted it any differently. They all knew that was true, it was the agreement they had all reached when setting iR up in the event of one of them dying. Scott had just always assumed it would be him first.

So resume they did, and at first it was so much harder than they thought it would be. John had to intercede frequently for frayed tempers and snarled words about idiots and simpletons. He thanked the stars that neither Fischler or Lemaire were anywhere to be seen or there may have been blood.

And slowly a new normal began to establish itself.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Six months later John received the most cryptic message he had ever heard. Some very remote village in South Africa was requesting International Rescue come visit them. The residents of Makosi were very insistent – someone needed to come right away.

John was tempted to dismiss it, but on researching the tiny village, his concerns grew. This village had nothing, barely any electricity or water, virtually no net presence at all. Something was not right. He commed Scott and filled him in. Scott was equally puzzled, but in true Scott fashion decided he would go check it out. Alone. John was having none of that, and told him so, calling Kayo and asking her to redirect.

They landed their craft carefully, mindful that the area around the village was farming land, and made their way to the centre. They had quite a following by the time they arrived at the house of the community leader. They were ushered in and given drinks to refresh themselves. John kept up a steady murmur in their ears, translating whenever the leaders lapsed back into their native tongue.

Scott was impatient, but he understood that something important was happening here. So he bit his tongue and clenched his insides and he waited. Drinks and niceties dispensed with, everyone stood and someone was ushered in behind him. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. A hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed.

The gasp from Kayo confirmed what his heart had already told him, but he still hadn’t turned around. Until the hand was gently pulling and turning him.

There stood his brother, resplendent in traditional African clothing – shades of green of course - and eyes of impossible brown concern.

‘Virgil?’ he whispered. His voice was gone. And they were hugging and crying, clinging on to the apparition in front of him.

‘I never thought I’d see you again. They told me you were dead. They…’ Virgil squeezed tighter, then opened his arms for Kay to join them. John was there too, displayed from Kayo’s wrist, and he connected everyone.

Eventually they broke apart and Virgil explained what had happened. He’d been swept away, and he didn’t remember much else until he had woken, several days later, here in the clinic. No memory of who he was, and with little contact with the outside world, he just got on with healing and helping. Then a couple of days ago someone returning to the village after a long time away recognised him. Hearing his name for the first time brought it all back.

They stayed a while with the village, were given a tour and already John and Virgil were in deep discussion on how they could help the village. Scott took Kayo to one side.

‘Are there other places like this, where survivors could be waiting to be found?’ She nodded. It seemed likely.

Thus one of the largest rescue missions ever launched by iR and the GDF commenced, moving over the east coast of Africa and visiting thousands of tiny remote areas.

They found survivors. 674 people were returned to loved ones in one of the best rescues iR had ever been involved with. Tracy Industries set up a fund to help all the villages up and down the coast, Scott being unable to comprehend that in this day and age so many places lacked such basics that he took for granted.

The Virgil Tracy Trust concentrated on bringing water, electricity, farming and medical equipment, and technology to people all over the world who lived in the poorest communities.

Scott and Virgil sat on Scott’s balcony, toasting the sunset with Scotch. No more words had been said. Their family was complete again. Now all they had to pray was that there was the same miracle for their father.


	15. He Wished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott wishes for a lot of things...actually, he wishes for just one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prompt this time, but it's been floating around my head.
> 
> Wee Tracy's

He wished, just for once, that he had a bolt-hole, a place to call his own where his brothers would not disturb him. John had the roof. Virgil had the art room. Gordon had the pool. Alan was too little to need one really, but even he had been known to seek the solace of his room at times,

But there was nowhere for Scott to go when he needed a break, because ‘he never needed a break’. That was total crap, and he knew it, but his brothers had grown up knowing this, believing this, and nothing and no-one was going to tell them any different. Least of all him.

But things had been getting on top of him, and Scott was starting to feel overwhelmed. It had happened before, but then he’d had both parents to help him. Now he had no-one.

‘Scott, can you come help me with my homework please?’ And right on cue, there was Gordon. Breathing deeply to quell the unease, he plastered a smile on and went to help his brother.

A typical day for Scott began at 5am. Get up, quick shower, get downstairs and do five packed lunches, remembering to not give Alan the peanut butter and make sure Gordon’s contained at least one piece of fruit. Tidy the kitchen and get the breakfast ready. 6am and both Alan and Gordon were stirring. Get them both up, washed down and downstairs for breakfast. This generally took almost an hour, and by this time John would be up and bathed. Leave John in charge of feeding the youngest while he got up the middle one. 7am: knock on Virgil’s door until he answered. Go tidy up the bathroom. 7:15am: knock on Virgil’s door again until he answers. Go downstairs and pack everyone’s school bags. 7:30am: enter Virgil’s room and force the boy out of bed and into the bathroom. By 8am everyone was ready for the bus. Drop Gordon and Alan off on the way.

Finish school? Go pick up Gordon and Alan – John and Virgil would be home later together after their respective afterschool activities. Gordon and Alan had an hour either in the pool or playing before dinner at 5pm. Then everyone (except Alan, who was too young but pouted about being left out) did their homework. Everyone but Scott who invariably helped Virgil or Gordon (John didn’t need it) while trying to keep Alan out of everyone’s hair. 6pm and bath for Alan then bed, repeat for Gordon. Virgil and John had their own activities. 8pm and time for Scott to clean the kitchen and put on the dishwasher and the laundry, make sure bags were ready for school tomorrow. Call John down off the roof at 9:30pm to go to bed. 10pm and finally Scott can do his own homework.

Get to bed for about midnight. Get woken up by Alan at 1am because he’d had a nightmare about the monster under his bed (thank you Gordon, nothing could dissuade Alan of this ‘fact’). Eventually give up and let Alan sleep in his bed. Now 2:30am. This is usually when his dad decides to come home, sometimes drunk, sometimes just exhausted, Scott doesn’t care which any more. 4am and Scott’s woken up by the car door slamming under his window.

Scott had been following this routine for almost two years now, first with help from nannies and babysitters, but over the months these have dropped off – usually because four boisterous children are more than enough for one adult to handle. Funny that everyone thinks – knows that Scott can.

He wished he could.


	16. Don’t take me back there!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's back on the island after that rescue, but something's not quite right...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For my husband and prompt 20: ‘Don’t take me back there! Please, I can’t go back there. They’re there!’  
> Follows on from ‘Does it kill you?’ (Chapter 11)

It had been a call out of the blue. Colonel Casey was still scratching her head about it. The call had come last night, and she had personally attended with only Rigby – secrecy was of the utmost importance. The Hood, on Tracy Island, begging to be picked up! And promising in return to reveal the whereabouts of one Scott Tracy, unknowingly missing since earlier that day.

The Tracy’s were up in arms. No-one had a clue that Scott had been missing for hours. No-one had even been on the island. Except for Sally. And Alan. Virgil had been called away to another rescue with Gordon, Kayo was…elsewhere.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

John had been a little suspicious when One was flown home on autopilot, but Scott had assured him the medic on scene had seen to his injured hand, and John had watched the footage to be sure.

Scott had stayed in One far longer than he should have, and Grandma had sent Alan down to retrieve him. She had taken him to the infirmary to check him over, and he had endured it will good grace.

Reassured that her eldest grandson was in no danger, she brought him upstairs to the kitchen and made him sit with Alan while she cooked. Help Alan with his homework, Sally had instructed, and Scott would have loved to, but Game Theory was not his strong point, and as soon as the words ‘I’ll cook’ had been uttered, Alan had looked wildly around like a trapped rabbit looking for an exit.

Alan’s panicked hiss ‘Scott, we need to get out of here’ confirmed to Scott that there was something more to Grandma’s offer to cook, but Sally fixed both her grandsons with a stare that could freeze lava. They sat there, unmoving, barely daring to breathe, while she created.

It took Sally 10 minutes to fix the ingredients for her favourite cookie recipe. Scott’s face went through several expressions he had never shown before. Glancing at Alan – and the poor kid was almost green – Scott couldn’t fathom how any of them were still alive, let alone able to beat him so often.

Sally dished up probably the worse cookies she had ever made. They were bad even by her standards. Poor Alan, she actually felt quite sorry for him, but these were especially for Scott. She frowned; a slight niggling worry she was trying hard to hide.

‘Take one, Scott, and tell me what you think.’ Scott gulped. He couldn’t think of any way out of it. Gingerly he took one and nibbled. Eyes bulging, Scott looked around desperately for somewhere he could spit it out, only to catch his Grandmother’s stern face. He swallowed with difficulty, gagging as the tiny piece he took went down.

‘Wow, Grandma. You really outdid yourself this time.’ It was the only thing he could think of to say. It was the wrong thing. Beaming like the proud Grandma she was, she placed the remaining 11 cookies in front of him with a large glass of milk. ‘Great! They’re all for you. Eat them up now and we can debrief while you do so. Alan, go get your brother.’

Confused, but oh so pleased to just get out of there, Alan fled. Scott didn’t stand a chance. He’d forced himself to finish the first cookie while Grandma asked inane questions he couldn’t answer, mumbling answers he hoped would satisfy the old bird.

Meanwhile, Alan had called John and told him what was going on. The two shared a lot of giggles – neither envied Scott’s position. ‘What did Grandma say?’ John asked, intrigued. Alan laughed. ‘She passed him the entire batch and told him he could eat them while they debriefed, and she told me to go get you.’

John frowned. ‘Go get me? She wants me to come down for debrief?’ Alan stopped. Huh, he hadn’t really thought about what Grandma had said, he was too glad just to get out of there. ‘I don’t think so, John. She told me to go get ‘my brother’. Do you think something is wrong?’ John shrugged. ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

Grandma, certain in her own mind, had badgered and badgered Scott with questions about the rescue, moving on to easier questions he should know the answers. Scott was getting more and more desperate. He needed to get out of here. 

‘Scott, honey, what’s wrong? You haven’t finished your cookies, and they’re your favourites!’ Scott looked panicked. The one he had managed had soured his stomach and he just wanted to throw up, but there wasn’t anywhere to do so. There was no way he could eat any more, and he was…he needed to escape! But how to get back to the silo?

John and Alan joined just as Scott was backing away from their Grandma while she advanced on him, plate of cookies held out in front of her. The two dissolved into giggles again, until Scott, pushed right up against the wall, pushed passed his Grandma and sprinted out onto the patio. They shared a glance before Alan rushed off to help his Grandma and John tracked Scott down to the beach.

He listened in as Scott made the call.

‘Get me out of here. I’ll do anything. Anything! I’ll even tell you where Scott Tracy is!’ And having said this the device flickered and the Hood materialised. John was momentarily speechless before sending an alert to everyone.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB

Everyone was furious. Virgil and Gordon were rushing back to the island. Kayo was flying in from somewhere. Grandma and Alan had locked the villa up, leaving the Hood on the beach. Colonel Casey was on her way with the only other member of the GDF the Tracy’s trusted. They picked up the Hood and were escorted from the island by Two.

Halfway back to base and the Hood began to have second thoughts. He knew that his minions would get him out again, no jail could hold him, and having the real Scott Tracy as a hostage stood him in good stead.

‘Well, Hood? You made a deal. Where is Scott Tracy?’  
‘Do you know, I think I may have changed my mind. Why should I give up the golden goose?’

Casey frowned. She had known it was a possibility he would do this; he was such a slippery character. ‘Did you hear, John?’ John materialised in front of his Godmother. He nodded. Casey sighed. ‘I’m open to suggestions.’ Virgil and Gordon appeared as well. 

It was Gordon’s suggestion in the end. They had all seen the footage of the Hood with Grandma, and this was the basis for Gordon’s idea. He shared it and even the on-duty Colonel couldn’t help but smile. She returned to the Hood in the holding cell.

‘Have you changed your mind?’  
‘Now why would I do that?’  
‘Because, if you do not give up the location of Scott I will order this ship to turn around and return you to the island. Grandma Tracy says you still haven’t finished your cookies, and the rest of Scott’s brothers are quite ready to.’

The Hood paled. She wouldn’t dare! But she just might…he rushed forward only to be pulled back by the restraint. ‘Don’t take me back there! Please, I can’t go back there. They’re there! I’ll tell you where he is, just don’t take me back!’

Coordinates given, Two peeled off to go get Scott while the GDF took the Hood into ‘protective custody.’ Grandma was on the warpath.


	17. When I Finish Patching You Up...John Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's forgotten again...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For such-a-random-rambler and the prompt: ‘When I finish patching you up I swear to god I’m going to kick your ass for making me worry about you’ and John.

If EOS had eyes she would roll them as she had seen Scott and Virgil and even John do. It looked like a very satisfying thing to do. She’d tried it with her lights, but it just looked like a flashing circle. It would be one of the first things she would ask for if someone was to offer – she’d like a pair of eyes to roll. To go with that she’d like a pair of lips to huff and lungs to sigh. These seemed to be repetitive gestures on Tracy Island, and they intrigued her greatly.

‘You’re procrastinating!’

EOS was learning so much. But now was the time to put some of that learning into practice. It was a little difficult because she had no body, no arms to help and hold, but she had her intellect, and, as John was want to say, intellect is the greatest weapon man could wield. She didn’t need a weapon, but she did need to act.

John had done something stupid. Again.

How many times did he forget the effect changing gravity had on him? How many times had he fallen, knocked himself or dropped something while on Earth? Countless, well not to her, but yeah – a lot. Sometimes he forgot it worked the other way too.

He had slipped in the shower. And hit his head. She’d immediately turned the water off and had been trying to rouse him, but she was having no luck. John was bleeding. EOS knew the first aid he needed, but she couldn’t do it for him.

And this is where it became just a little bit more difficult. Scott was at TI headquarters in meetings all day. Virgil had taken Grandma shopping. Alan and Kayo were out near Mars escorting a broken-down shuttle.

Only Gordon was there.

In theory this was not a problem. Gordon had the right training and knew what to do for John, she’d seen him perform this for many victims. No, the problem was that John had said not to trust Gordon and to never let him on board. He had a tendency to hide things that his brothers hated. She had watched with great interest the other day when Gordon had spiked Scott’s shower with blue dye. Scott had been furious, choice words were spoken but Gordon, and Alan, found it hilarious and had filmed it all. John had rolled his eyes and made her promise to never let Gordon up.

She pondered her predicament for 0.28 seconds. Health overrode everything. Scott had told her John’s health was the most important thing and she had promised. So making a decision and contacting Gordon took less than 1.5 minutes from John hitting his head.

‘Gordon?’ Gordon looked up. He’d been waxing his surf board ready for a sweet day of surfing in Hawaii, he was due some time off and the waves promised to be spectacular. ‘EOS? Is everything alright?’ EOS’ lights flashed. ‘I’m sending the elevator down to you. John has had an accident and hit his head. He is currently unresponsive.’ Damn. Throwing down his cloth and running to grab the first aid kit from the hanger, he mentally ran through what else he might need. 

Thank goodness the elevator only took eight minutes; it was just enough time to get suited up. Getting there, Gordon could almost feel how worried EOS was, but he was ever the professional, and it didn’t take long check John over and get him out of the shower and into his room. By this time John was stirring but wasn’t fully awake. There was a good size gash to his head that would require a bandage, but not stitches – thank goodness because Gordon did not do sewing – and he began to strap John’s head as Virgil’s voice came over the comm. EOS must have called him.

‘Everything ok, Gordon?’ He nodded. ‘Yeah, John’s just starting to come around. No stitches needed but he’ll have to come back down so we can keep an eye on him. EOS, how long was he out for?’ EOS’ lights flickered. ‘In total, 18.72 minutes.’ Virgil sighed. ‘We’re almost home so we’ll get the infirmary ready.’

Just as Gordon was finishing up bandaging John’s head, he seemed to come round fully. ‘Gordon?’ Gordon chuckled. ‘Yes, it’s me John. You’re not imaging things.’ John tried to move away but Gordon caught him and hissed, ‘stay still. You know, when I finish patching you up John…’ and to both their surprise EOS jumped right in with: ‘I swear to god I’m going to kick your ass for making me worry about you.’

Gordon collapsed in laughter while John raised an eyebrow. ‘Really, EOS? Who taught you to say that?’ EOS gave a giggle herself. ‘You did, John. You say it to Scott, and sometimes Virgil, quite a lot.’

John flushed red.


	18. When I Finish Patching You Up...Virgil & Scott Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil and Scott's turn, and one is injured while the other is fixing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Fictivekaleidoscope and the prompt: ‘When I finish patching you up I swear to god I’m going to kick your ass for making me worry about you’ with Virgil and Scott.

There was muttering. It was annoying because it was stopping him sleeping, and everyone knew not to disturb Virgil’s sleep on pain of death. Still, said mutterer must not have a death wish because as soon as that thought had manifested itself the noise stopped. He sighed and settled in for sleep, only for a sharp pain to register.

What on earth was someone doing to his arm? He tried to pull back, but to his surprise nothing happened. Huh, weird. What was going on. Damn, the muttering had started up again, this time a little louder, and still his arm was being pulled about. He tried to say ‘Hey! Stop that!’ but it came out as a longish whine. The muttering and the pulling stopped.

‘Virgil?’

Why was there a question mark at the end of his name? Surely Scott hadn’t forgotten it? The thought raced through his head. The rescue, the container, Scott! Had the container fallen on this brother after all? Did Scott have a head injury, one that caused him to be unsure of who he was? Virgil screwed his face up in an effort to remember what had happened on the rescue.

Warehouse fires were never good. You never knew what was going to explode. Inventories were never accurate, and he had lost count years ago of how many times he’d been told the building met the safety regs – but didn’t. This one was proving to be much the same. Some kind of storage facility, with huge shipping containers from floor to ceiling. Some were exploding from the heat, giant missiles that had taken out three of the local fire engines.

So International Rescue was called. Several hours and a lot of work later Virgil and Scott had been finishing off inside while Gordon and Alan were finishing outside. He remembered looking up – that container was going to fall on Scott, he was ahead. Virgil remembered sprinting as fast as the Jaws of Life would let him, Virgil had some protection using them – Scott had none.

Had he not been successful in saving Scott? Was his brother in the bed next to him, suffering memory loss? Virgil groaned. Why couldn’t he open his eyes and look? He needed to know, needed to check. He needed to move, and he forced all his energy into sitting up. Hands were immediately there, gently pushing him back into the bed as the one pulling on his arm held it still.

Huh. Maybe he should concentrate more on opening his eyes. The murmuring had started up again, and this time there was another voice joining it. They appeared to be talking to each other, talking over him. It was beginning to irk him that he couldn’t seem to wake up properly. A hand cupped his cheek and a thumb rubbed gently across his zygomatic bone, and he turned slightly into it. 

‘Open you eyes, little brother.’ Scott. So warm and coaxing, and Virgil found his eyes opening almost against his will. Blinking furiously in the light, eventually he managed to open them enough to see his oldest brother smiling down on him, one hand on his face, other hand holding his arm. Turning slightly the other way he could see Gordon, hands on his shoulders and big grin on his face.

Virgil frowned. This did not seem right. Scott removed his hand and immediately he felt bereft. Scott was bandaging his arm. Something else had happened. Why couldn’t he remember past running for Scott? He screwed his face up trying to remember, only for Gordon to give him a small shake, so he opened his eyes again.

‘Virgil, do you remember what happened?’ Scott, ever so calm and commanding, still wrapping his arm. ‘Container. You were in danger.’ Scott nodded. ‘That’s right. You pushed me out of the way.’ A snort from Gordon and Virgil glanced at him while Scott merely raised an eyebrow and continued as if he hadn’t done anything. ‘The container fell on you instead. Got a nasty bump and cut your arm up pretty good. Luckily your exosuit saved you from any serious consequences.’ Scott glanced at Gordon, who got up and left the room.

Scott was on the last bit of the bandage, seeming to concentrate on the tightness of the strapping. He was biting his lip as he worked. Virgil frowned. 

‘Scott?’  
‘When I finish patching you up I swear to god I’m going to kick your ass for making me worry about you…’

Virgil swallowed back a laugh and interrupted his brother. ‘You would have done the same if the roles had been reversed, don’t say you wouldn’t. At least I had my Jaws to protect me. You would have had nothing to protect you. I won’t apologise for saving your ass.’

Scott flashed him a tight smile as he held Virgil’s hand. ‘I never will ask you to. I was going to say thank you,’ he said dryly.

‘Any time.’


	19. How Long Can He Hold His Breath?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon and Virgil are in quite the predicament with no way out until Scott and Alan get there.
> 
> Warning: this is going to be whumpy so be warned. Trigger warning for water torture.
> 
> Marks & Wings verse. This is my first attempt at Marks & Wings so if it’s not right anywhere then that’s all my fault!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Katblu42 and the prompt 42: ‘How long do you think they can hold their breath underwater before they need to breathe?’ with Virgil and Gordon.

Gordon was cold. He couldn’t quite remember why he was cold. He lived on a tropical island that only got cold at night, but it didn’t feel like night. Huh. What had he been up to? A shiver worked its way through him as he tried to sit up.

Tried was the operative word. Something was constricting his movement in his legs and his famous Squid sense started tingling like he had pins and needles running up and down his spine. What the hell? Time to open his eyes and see what was going on.

The room was dark. And small. His uniform was missing. As soon as the thought filtered through his head the memories came back. Holed ship, dangerous cargo. Virgil and Gordon. Only three crew members had raised suspicions. Virgil had remained on Two to send down the rescue platform. Aim: rescue the people then stablise the ship. He hadn’t got far along the deck when he felt a sting in his neck and in seconds he was down.

What happened to Virgil? 

There was no way that his brother would have stayed put on Two. So where was he? Gordon hoped that he had got away and that he and Scott and John were planning on how they were going to get him out. He went to move and was reminded that his feet were restricted. Sure enough, there was a chain wound around his legs from ankle to just under his knees. Gordon rolled his shoulders. He could get out of this. What stopped him for the moment was that he didn’t know where his brother was. Would he be putting him in more danger if he did? 

There was only one way to find out.

He didn’t usually change out of the water, but he could. And a cephalopod was the ideal creature to get out of chains since they could survive short periods out of water. Gordon rolled his shoulders again and his mark shimmered.

Chains of that size were no problem for a tiny octopus. It took him no time at all to get out of them, make his way to the door and underneath. Skirting the edges, he made his way downwards. The air was getting chilly and he could sense the sea. He squeezed under the doorway that felt of the sea the strongest. It was an undercover dock. Something large was sitting there, a tarpaulin covering it. Gordon’s curiosity piqued, he changed back to human. Arms with hands would be useful here. Pulling off the cover, he gasped out loud and fell to his knees, hands reaching.

For under the tarpaulin was a cage. And in the cage was the unconscious form of his big brother. Virgil had a bruise covering his right eye and cheek. He was cuffed by one hand to the cage. Already Gordon was calculating how he was going to get him, get them both out. Virgil still had his uniform on, and Gordon reached out for the sash to trigger the comms. As he did he was grasped from behind and he cursed himself. He hadn’t checked the perimeter in his haste to check his brother.

Gordon was dragged backwards, and his hands were chained to a hoop set into the floor. He struggled, trying to kick out and do some damage, but the sight of Virgil in the cage stopped him short. There were three men and they backed off. A fourth man came into view. He was dressed in a suit and for a horrified moment Gordon thought it was the Hood. A sigh of relief when he realised it wasn’t was equal to the horrible realisation that he did not know this man. 

But he bet he could work out what he wanted.

As the man crouched down in front of him but out of reach Gordon watched over his shoulder as the others set about hooking the cage up to a chain block. Gordon’s face fell. He knew exactly where this was going from here, and he could only pray that his brothers would soon find them. He could feel a sudden upsurge in concern from John. Virgil being unconscious didn’t stop Gordon feeling him, but his presence was small and distant.

When the men had finished hooking the cage up the man in front of him swivelled to the side so that Gordon had a full view of the cage. Nothing was said but two of the men pulled on the chains, lifting the cage up, while the third swung it out over the water. All four paused and turned to Gordon, watching his reaction as the two let go of the chains and the cage dropped.

Virgil was jolted awake by the sudden plunge into cold water. Making to stand up, the immovability of his wrist plunged him back down into the water. He didn’t have time to consider what was going on before the water was over his head. He’d barely had time to take a breath. Opening his eyes underwater wasn’t a problem, and he took in the cage around him and the cuff around his wrist. 

Gordon knew better than to beg for them to let his brother up. Any perceived weakness on his part and they would pounce on him. But if they didn’t let Virgil up soon…Gordon tried hard to sigh in relief without it showing, but he knew he failed miserably. They winched up his soaking brother and the heaving for air was like music to Gordon’s ears.

They didn’t swing the cage back over the dockside.

The man stood up and shot his cuffs forward, needlessly correcting his cufflinks. He turned to Gordon. ‘Just so that you can see we mean business, Mr Tracy. For every time you do not answer my questions the cage will stay down an extra 30 seconds.’ He flicked a hand at Virgil. ‘How long do you think he can hold their breath underwater before he needs to breathe? Do you understand?’ Gordon nodded.

They began, both knowing Gordon wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ , answer the question. He wanted the plans to One and Two. Gordon kept quiet. Nothing he could say would change anything. He could feel the calmness from Virgil bolstering him, and John was there. His brothers were coming, he – _they_ – just had to hold on. Thank goodness that, although none of them could hold their breath as long as he could, they all had training from him and could hold it longer than the average.

But they were pushing the limits. So far Virgil, although coughing and gasping when the cage was raised, he hadn’t raised his wings. If he was kept under long enough, though, they would raise as an automatic response, and Gordon hated that thought. He needed to get them out before that happened. Waterlogged wings would also drag Virgil down.

The cage dropped again. But this time there was no move to raise it. The man stood in front of Gordon, eyebrow raised and waiting. John, Gordon thought, it needs to be now! Virgil can’t take much more of this! A shooting pain of anger lanced through him, and the knowledge from John that his brothers were almost there bolstered him.

The two that had been operating the chains let them go, and Gordon lunged forward snarling. And suddenly his eldest and youngest brothers were there, whirling and fighting. The fight was over before the men had even registered they were under attack. The moment he had seen the flashing of light off of Scott’s wings Gordon had changed back into the octopus and was out of the chains and in the water. 

Virgil had extended his wings, the reflex too strong to override. Grabbing the chains and surfacing, he was so pleased when Scott snatched them off him and hauled. Gordon changed into a seal and did his best to control the cage so that Virgil’s wings would not be snagged. 

It didn’t take long for one of Alan’s lasers to cut through the lock and Gordon rushed in to check. Virgil wasn’t breathing, but his pulse was still there. Thumping his chest produced the required coughing up of water, and he held Virgil down gently while slightly twisting his upper body so he could expel the water without damaging his wings.

He was shaking. Virgil was going to fine. Scott was taking care of the four men – and he almost felt sorry for them – and Alan was bringing Two in to land. They had jumped and flew from quite a height so as to give as little notice as possible, and now they needed her. They hadn’t laid a physical hand on either of them, but the horror of having to watch his brother repeatedly dunked into the water would give him nightmares for weeks. At least.

Once Virgil had calmed his coughing he was able to phase his wings back, and they had helped him into the infirmary and checked him over. Nothing of serious note stood out, but his chest was going to be sore for a while. Probably a couple of weeks downtime just to make sure. 

Despite Virgil’s protests that he was fine, Alan flew Two home, Scott pacing them in One. Gordon sat in the infirmary holding Virgil’s hand as his brother slept, having fallen asleep almost the instant Two had taken off. Gordon gave his hand a squeezed and it was reciprocated. 

‘Thank you.’ Gordon started. What on earth was Virgil thanking him for? Virgil chuckled. He could feel Gordon’s confusion. ‘Thank you for staying firm. I knew you’d get me out of there.’ Gordon rolled his eyes. ‘Not much help, was I.’ Virgil tugged on his hand until he pulled Gordon onto the bed and into a hug. ‘You believed I could do it. That was all the help I needed.’ 

There may have been a couple of tears shed, but Gordon would firmly deny that. John laughed in his mind, a warm comforting laugh. Virgil would be fine. They would be fine.


	20. You Made Me Hurt Them

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott's missing. No trace at all. Then help comes from an unexpected quarter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Nourelle-tracy and prompt 16: ‘You made me hurt them.’ ‘I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.’ With the Hood and Gordon.
> 
> A TOS/TAG crossover.

The thing with being a rich family was that it made the children targets for kidnapping. Jeff may not have become a millionaire overnight, but the earliest kidnap attempt was when Lucy was pregnant with Gordon, a contributing factor in his early birth. Scott was six and gone a little over 24 hours.

Multiply the millions and attempts became more frequent and elaborate. Before Alan had reached two and Scott was eleven, Jeff had been forced to hire a security specialist and all the boys bar Alan had been given some form of training. It didn’t stop the attempts, but it did mean they were more likely to fail.

Then their life went to hell. The boys grew up and the eldest went their separate ways. Then Jeff founded International Rescue. Now the boys were once again targets, only this time technology was often the aim, although the odd attempt for money still happened. Thankfully very few attempts came anywhere near being successful. But suddenly Jeff was gone, the world knew who iR was, and it was back to full alert as, once again, they became targets.

Each of these attempts had one thing in common. No-one outside the family and those immediately involved knew anything about it. Ask the everyday man on the street and he would not be able to tell you a single occasion. Which is one reason why this time was so difficult.

TBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTBTB 

It was the (second) worse day in iR history. First place should have been given to their father’s abrupt disappearance from their lives, but the public were, in the main, ignorant of the complete details.

The public were not ignorant of it this time. John and EOS might be fast, but a simultaneous live broadcast on all airwaves was really hard to block. Besides that, they needed to know. For Scott Tracy had been missing for four days with no clue, no ransom, no contact of any details.

He hadn’t even been on a mission. Scott had been jumped on his first day off in years. His brothers were up in arms and plans had been put into place to never allow him off the island alone again. There were no recordings. No images at all. Someone was being very thorough, and that unnerved John. He should be able to find _something_. Penny, Parker and Kayo had similarly come back with no results from their not inconsiderable sources.

Scott Tracy had simply vanished.

Then, what would have been 10am island time, in a broadcast eerily similar to that first one of the Hood’s a couple of years ago, they finally found out what was happening, what was wanted.

The man – could have been a woman even – the _person_ behind all this stayed hidden, all but a projected outline and a voice. A voice that demanded all the Thunderbirds and their plans. In exchange for Scott’s life. There followed an unnecessarily graphic video in case there was any doubting of intent.

So the whole world knew. And it waited. International Rescue was stood down. But they began to be flooded with calls offering help, people who claimed to have seen Scott walking around and wasn’t this just an elaborate hoax? People who claimed to have been there and witnessed it all, people who had seen someone acting suspiciously and couldn’t they be the one responsible? People who undoubtedly thought they were helping but were creating trees. As in, they could not see the wood for the trees.

They were getting nowhere, and the deadline was approaching. Kayo, Penny, Parker, Rigby and Colonel Casey were all sifting through the information looking for that one key, the key that would save Scott without giving up their ‘birds. It wasn’t that they were loath to give them up, but they understood better than most the potential the ships had if they fell into the wrong hands. 

These would definitely be the wrong hands. 

Gordon had been in contact with his old WASP mates and had been stuck in military mode since they first realised Scott was missing. There wasn’t even a whisper. Whoever this was was either very new and therefore an unknown – a scary thought considering the lengths they had gone to already – or was very well known and connected and controlled a lot of people. Neither scenario was great for Scott or them.

Kayo took the call. It was obviously by design that it came through to her, as no-one else would have given him the time of day, and indeed, Kayo really didn’t want to. But his opening words stopped her cutting him off.

‘I know where he is.’

A simple statement that could easily be a lie from this man’s lips, but there was something in his features, a look of distaste as if he couldn’t believe he was doing this. Kayo got everyone’s attention.

‘We’re listening.’  
‘I know where he is and who has him.’  
‘And who might that be, Uncle?’

She shuddered inwardly, she hated calling him that, but if he had information he was willing to share then she could play nice. The idea that they may owe him in the future didn’t bear thinking about but there was no contest here.

The Hood stared at his niece. He couldn’t see the men she called brothers around her, but he had no doubt that they were there. He hated this. _Hated_ it. But they would owe him big time and a little bit of avarice was prompting his move. Besides, no-one was going to get those ships but him, especially not this person. He had a score to settle too.

‘The person who has your brother goes by the name of General X. Many moons ago, when Jeff Tracy first set up International Rescue I was hired by them to steal plans and footage of the Thunderbirds. Thankfully I do not need to work for anyone these days, but we all have to start somewhere. I had thought that General X had just disappeared when the plane crashed into the mansion, but it appears I am wrong.’  
‘And Scott?’  
‘We have very little time, and General X is a person of their word. They will kill him if we do not hurry.’

And thus an absolute first occurred. Gordon Tracy, Kayo Kyrano and The Hood joined forces together to rescue one Scott Tracy. Virgil was furious at being left out until he saw Gordon packing his service gun.

The large mansion was exactly as the Hood remembered it. General X was not to be underestimated, but they had no taste in architecture. No taste at all. The place had been rebuilt almost exactly as he remembered it from before. As before, getting in was easy. No-one knew who General X was, so security, at least here on the outside, was minimal to avoid raising any alarm.

The inside was another matter, and they had to move fast. No-one could match Kayo for stealth, and Gordon in this mindset gave a glimpse of a previous life few knew anything about. Probably Scott did, she mused, but her brother the youngest WASP officer in history was always tight-lipped about his service. As was Scott. She was grateful for it though, she had backup. Kayo wouldn’t trust her uncle under any circumstances, and the two siblings had planned contingencies in case this was a trap.

The Hood led them through hallway after hallway, ducking into rooms when they might be discovered, always heading for the centre of the huge building. Almost there, and they were spotted. Neutralising the guards was easy, thanks to Brains’ incredibly fast-acting tranquiliser darts, but one had been talking on a radio.

A short gun battle ensued. As useless as he remembered, it didn’t take long to overcome the hired thugs. Why General X always seemed to surround themselves with such rubbish people the Hood didn’t know, but he was thankful nonetheless, he had not needed to get his hands dirty yet. They debated separating. Gordon going off to find Scott while Kayo and her uncle went after the General. In the end they decided to stick together.

It was a good job they did. For as they entered what would probably have been the ballroom, they came across both persons of interest together. The person they assumed was General X was seated in front of a desk. They were completely in darkness so that even this close no details could be made out. Beside them, curled up on the floor and chained to the chair by a collar around his neck was Scott. He didn’t seem aware that they were there.

If the General was surprised at their appearance they did not show it. The three of them fanned out slightly, Gordon in the middle. He knew the drill – keep them talking while they slowly edged forward. No-one had said anything yet.

‘Well, well, well! If it isn’t Agent 47! It has been a long time, my friend.’ The Hood wanted to spit in their face. ‘You are not my friend. You left me to be captured! After everything I had been through to get those pictures for you.’ He took a step forward as Kayo murmured something about holding steady. ‘Hmm. You are right about that, but I have watched your rise to criminal mastermind with much interest. You wouldn’t be where you are now without me.’

Scott stirred, and General X gave a sharp yank on the chain, causing him to collapse and he cried out in pain. He was not in any condition to help them and seemed to lapse back into semi-consciousness. Gordon and Kayo both took steps forward to keep pace with the Hood.

‘That’s quite close enough, thank you.’ And so saying a gun appeared, pointing straight at Scott. They stilled. ‘I don’t understand why you, of all people, are helping them,’ they said, gun gesturing at Scott but obviously addressing the Hood. ‘After all, it’s this one’s fault you got captured that first time. He destroyed my house.’ Technically, it had been the Hood who had destroyed the house, but this wasn’t a detail to go into now.

‘It’s quite simple, General. The Thunderbirds are mine. And I will not allow them to fall into anyone else’s hands!’ General X laughed. ‘Really? And how’s that working out for you? Almost 6 years since iR started and you still haven’t managed it yet.’ The Hood ground his teeth.

Turning to Gordon and Kayo the General continued. ‘And I assume you brough some plans with you? It’s been a fun diversion, having your brother here, but I’m getting tired of him.’ He cocked the gun. Gordon held his hands out. ‘Wait! Wait, we do have something for you.’ General X smirked at the Hood. ‘Well. I’m waiting.’ Kayo shook her head. ‘Not until Scott’s safe.’ The smirk turned into a full smile, and it was not pleasant. ‘You think you’re in a position to bargain with me?’ They yanked the chain again, pulling Scott close enough so that they could grab a fistful of hair.

The gun was now at Scott’s temple and Kayo was seeing the situation rapidly escaping them. But then several things happened at once. Scott moved. With a speed that belied his outward condition he reached out and grabbed the gun, twisting it in the General’s hands and causing them to cry out in pain. Gordon, Kayo and the Hood all rushed forward.

There was a gunshot that stopped everyone dead. Looking in surprise at the hole in their chest, General X stared at the Hood. ‘You shot me!’ was the only thing they managed to say.

Kayo rushed over to Scott as Gordon turned to stare at the Hood. The Hood stared right back, a gun in between them. He looked almost as surprised as the General had looked. Getting his hands dirty was not something he liked to do, but he would do if it was necessary. This was necessary, he couldn’t have another rival on the scene for the Thunderbirds.

‘You made me hurt them,’ he said to Gordon, frowning in distaste at the gun still in his hand. Gordon smirked. ‘I didn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.’ Turning his back on the Hood, he rushed over to help Kayo with Scott. There were very careful hugs. 

Turning back to thank her uncle for his help Kayo was not surprised to find he had already left. Hitting her comm, she told Virgil the coast was clear and bring the stretcher. The relief in the man’s voice was palpable.

Turning the other way to check the General she got her first surprise.

General X was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> References made to Thunderbirds TOS episode ‘Martian Invasion’


	21. When I Finish Patching You Up...Gordon & Alan Edition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it's the turn of the terrible two! Gordon and Alan on vacation - what could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Islandsandstars and the prompt: ‘When I finish patching you up I swear to god I’m going to kick your ass for making me worry about you’ with Gordon and Alan.
> 
> A complete Brother Set!

Alan sat there with his head in his hands. What the hell was he going to say to his brothers? They had trusted that he wouldn’t do anything stupid, but now? He could hear Gordon’s voice whispering in his ear: _‘define stupid.’_ Damn Squid.

This was stupid. Stuck in a cheap motel somewhere in the middle of ‘idk, somewhere in America?’ Waiting for the local drugstore to open – ‘it doesn’t open until _when?_ ’ – while Gordon lay on one of the twin beds snoring his head off. It was a sound that was simultaneously very comforting and very, very annoying. He always snored when he slept on his back.

At least the sound confirmed his idiotic brother was very much alive. For now. He didn’t think they would be for long once the others found out. And they would find out pretty much imminently. Because Gordon was injured, and Alan had little available to help him. He had hoped that he could get the necessities at the drug store, but it wouldn’t open for another six hours! What kind of town doesn’t have a store that sells medical supplies 24/7? This one, apparently.

He could hear the conversation already:  
John: ‘You’re an idiot. Why did you let him do that?’  
Virgil: ‘You should have called me immediately! Let’s patch him up’  
Kayo: ‘I’ll go sort them out. They’ll never see the light of day again’  
Scott: ‘I’m never letting the two of you out of my sight again.’

Gordon was so dead either way. And so was he.

Standing back up, Alan made his way back to his brother to check him over for the bazillionth time. The makeshift bandage – read bedsheet (and he needed to remember that Gordon needed to get a tetanus shot) – that he had wrapped around Gordon’s thigh was now more red than white, but he had stemmed the bleeding as best he could.

It had been an innocent comment about one of the tattoos the ridiculously big man sported that had started this off. That, and Gordon’s sudden idea that hustling a biker bar full of Very Big Men and Women That Have More Paint Than Skin at pool was a good idea. Too young to drink, but game enough to watch, Alan saw player after player lose money. But therein lay the problem.

Gordon was enjoying himself too much. And he had that glint in his eye. ‘I’ve always wanted to do this. Let’s cross another item off my bucket list!’ And so saying he somehow – and Alan wasn’t quite sure how apart from the stupid comment – instigated the worse bar brawl Alan had ever seen, including the ones on TV.

Which had led to now. One smashed bottle of beer, one slash to the leg and yep. Now he was trying his best to fix up his brother with what little he could find after the fastest dash in history out of the bar and back to the motel while trying not to be followed (they weren’t followed, the bar continued to be systematically destroyed and the sound carried for miles). He had lectured Gordon on his stupidity all the way, promising the mother of all ass-kickings when he had finished patching him up.

Of course, said promises were quite empty of any real threat, but Gordon appreciated the attempt. What Gordon hadn’t considered was that the tiny, tiny town in which they had stopped for some ridiculous reason may not – did not – have facilities at this time of night to acquire the needed supplies to fix him up. This would mean a call to their brothers. 

Their big brothers. Their big, smothering brothers. He was so dead.

Raising his wrist, he prepared to get it over with. ‘If you call them, they will come.’ Rolling his eyes, he looked to a now wide awake and clearly feeling better brother. ‘Uh huh. That’s kinda the point.’ Gordon groaned. ‘But they’ll _come_ , and the holiday will be over!’ Alan patted his shoulder. ‘The holiday is over anyway. You’ve lost quite a bit of blood and have a three-inch gash in your thigh.’

‘Three inches? Pfft. I’ve danced with worse.’ At Alan’s obviously incredulous look Gordon grinned. ‘No, I’m not telling you that story. We’ve only three more days left anyway. Let’s rest up here then tomorrow we can move out.’

Did Alan ever say how incredibly easy it was to be swayed by a determined Gordon? No? Well, it would have come as no surprise to any of their brothers that Gordon and Alan slept the rest of the night and most of the following day away, only getting up so that Alan could go buy the supplies they needed. Thankfully, removing the sheet was easy and Alan proceeded to bandage him up properly, and Gordon gingerly moved around the room.

Promises were made. They would not tell their brothers. In turn Alan would not kick Gordon’s ass. In turn Gordon would pretend that Alan could kick his ass if he so wanted to.

Two days later and Virgil was picking them up in Two on his way back from a rescue. If he noticed Gordon moving a little stiffer than normal he didn’t say anything. Waiting for them when they got back were Scott, John, Kayo and Grandma. This made the pair very nervous. The four were standing in a line, arms folded across their chests and identical frowns on their faces.

They knew. Like all big brothers all over the universe, they just knew when their little brothers had done something stupid.

Gordon and Alan exchanged glances. They were so dead.   
They were so going to get their asses kicked.


	22. A Fish In The Desert

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gordon's asked to help out some scientists that work on the edge of the desert.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Strongerwiththepact and the whump prompt spin: Bruised Ribs + Desert with Gordon.

Deserts were weird places to find a fish, but there was a first time for everything, apparently. And this desert was the harshest place he’d ever been. Another first.

Gordon lay on his back, gasping for breath. The creaking of his ribs told him he definitely had some cracked ones, but there was no blood in his mouth and no wounds on his body, and he was inordinately thankful for that. 

Now, if only he could make it back to base camp and raise the alarm. But since his only mode of transport had be destroyed by a stray bullet to one of the tires it looked like a very long and painful walk, with no hope of hiding if they decided to come after him and finish the job properly.

He shivered, pulled his coat around him tighter and set off across the desert. Why couldn’t this desert be warm?

Four days ago he’d been sunning himself by the pool on the island when the call had come in. Several Southern Right whales had washed ashore along from Scott Base, and all showed evidence of unnatural deaths. Poaching was not unheard of, but was rare, and it was suspected disregarded fishing equipment was the source. Could International Rescue possibly take a look?

Scott hadn’t really needed bribing, he knew how much ocean life meant to his brother, and he had readily agreed as long as Gordon was available in the case of an emergency. They had all seen the damage a fishing net could do to a whale first hand.

Virgil dropped him off the coast of Antarctica as near to the station as possible, retrieving the pod and heading off home while Gordon landed and got to know the scientists living and working on the station. He was given a 101 of what not to do while visiting Antarctica

Day one in Antarctic waters was beautiful, full of sights he’d only seen in nature shows before, but nothing gave any cause for concern. Days two and three were pretty much the same, and Gordon contented himself by taking hundreds of pictures, knowing Virgil would like some, and munching his way through the extra box of celery crunch bars he’d stashed.

If only day four had been the same.

Day four he found the net. But it wasn’t a piece of discarded fishing detritus. No, this looked new, and looked to have been placed purposely. Gordon had researched poaching in these waters, and had been surprised that it still happened, even out here at the ends of the earth.

He set about cutting through the netting with Four’s laser and managed to get through quite a bit. Now he needed to collect it up and take it ashore for proper disposal. He didn’t want to drag it back to the station through the water in case it snagged more wildlife along the way, so he set about hauling it to the landmass of ice.

His first warning should have been the conveniently situated 4x4’s. The second should have been that the scientists rarely drove them to ensure that damage to the environment was kept to a minimum.

The third warning was the three men with guns who were looking. Looking for him, it turned out. The net had been alarmed, and they had responded. They must have been nearby to respond so quickly, but then Gordon reasoned that cutting through all that netting did actually take time.

They were unhappy, that much was sure, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for them, and by the bay there were some very large rocks that shielded him. While they made their way to the water, he made his way to the land. And the car.

Ever the prankster, true, but his messing with the car engine had the additional benefit of preventing a follower. But somehow they had worked out what was going on and he barely made it into the second truck as a bullet clipped the door.

Gordon wasn’t going to hang around, and flinging the net onto the passenger seat, he did up his belt and floored it, thankful that they had left the keys. But he didn’t get far. Whatever guns they were using pierced the thick giant tires and Gordon was rolling.

Thank goodness for seat beat. It didn’t leave him unscathed, though, and after getting out he lay on the snow for a minute, catching his breath and working out what to do next.

Standing up cautiously, it seemed he’d actually travelled quite a distance from the other car as it was no longer in sight. Shouldering the net, now his proof of poaching, he hit his comms as he walked. Walking would keep him warm while he waited for Two to come pick him up and keep some distance from whomever was shooting at him.

Two was out on a rescue, so it fell to One and his oldest brother to rescue him. He didn’t mind that, Scott would be here very quickly, and Gordon began to relax. The desert around him might be white instead of sandy, and cold rather than hot, but she had her own beauty. It was calm today, but when the wind blew the snow along she was a sight to behold.

Sure enough, he could hear One approaching already, then jumped out of his skin when his brother hailed him. No, not him. Scott was hailing the men that were obviously following him. In his meandering mind he had slowed down, and although they still were some distance away, he could see them if he squinted.

They didn’t stand a chance against One, and just to make sure Scott fired the cargo netting at them, the ends tangling them up, while he went to pick up Gordon. Dropping Gordon off at Base, Scott proceeded to New Zealand to drop off the poachers, promising Gordon that Virgil would be along as soon as possible to pick him and Four up.

The scientists were delighted with the news that a group of poachers had been caught and the netting removed, and there were bear hugs all round.

That’s when Gordon remembered his ribs.


	23. In The Grand Scheme of Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What mattered in the grand scheme of things? Scott ponders.

In the grand scheme of things there were important dates and important people. These were important to various people for various reasons. (That made more sense in his head.)

For example, 1066 was a Very Important Date to British people as they were invaded by France. There was also 5th November. He forgot what year, but he knew that tiny island celebrated the attempt to blow up their government once a year. 

(‘You can’t call the UK tiny. You live on a tiny island. Theirs is huge by comparison’ his tired brain supplied.)

Then for the Americans they had 1607 - the founding of the first colonies, followed by 4th July when they also rebelled against the ruling government – aka The British – and became their own nation. 

(He shifted uncomfortably. Then stopped as it quickly became evident that that was a big mistake.)

Important people were an interesting idea to ponder. Who or what made a person important?  
Was it Galileo Galilei, the so-called Father of astronomy and physics? Was it Leonardo Da Vinci, painter, creator, inventor extraordinaire?

Could it be Louis Pasteur? Alexander Fleming? Edward Jenner? What about Albert Einstein? Nicola Tesla? Thomas Edison? Alexander Graham Bell?

And what of his father’s heroes: Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Virgil Grissom? 

(His head hurt with all this thinking. And remembering his father made his heart hurt. And why was he even thinking about this?) 

He had his own heroes, of course. The Wright brothers, Werner Von Braun, Frank Whittle to name a few. He also had important dates. 8th October, 15th August, 14th February and 12th March. 5th June, his parents wedding. 

His breathing hitched and he tried to get more comfortable. That was a big mistake, increasing the pressure on his chest and causing even more pain. He clung to his thoughts to keep him conscious.

He wondered if anybody would consider him important. Sure he knew his brothers did, but in the grand scheme of things he was merely a spec, a person who hadn’t really contributed much to the world at large. 

No-one would really miss a washed-out air force captain, even if he had spent the rest of his life helping people. And if he thought about it further, that was just fine by him. He’d never wanted or liked being the centre of attention that the accident of his birth gave him, even if he lived with it uncomplainingly.

He needed to cough, but he knew it would be a Bad Idea. He really couldn’t think of a more unglamourous way to die. There was some comfort here though. At least he didn’t have to worry about his brothers. They weren’t here. Virgil and Gordon were on the other side of the planet dealing with a stranded tanker, and both Alan and John were helping with a certain space station that had a serious malfunction.

A part of him wondered about Kayo, but their chief of security and covert ops was currently undercover for the GDF. He frowned, and even _that_ hurt, as he couldn’t remember the last time he had spoken to Kayo, and a strange pain formed at the thought. He loved his sister dearly, even if they didn’t often see eye-to-eye.

Something above him shifted, causing dust and debris to rain down and a sharp pain tore a scream from him. Blackness entered his vision. But with it came voices, welcome noise into the silence.

A sigh escaped him, and he let himself go.

Scott Tracy may not be important in the grand scheme of things, but in the little world he inhabited, he was.


End file.
